


Dry Cereal

by ThymeAtlas



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 09:50:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5703277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThymeAtlas/pseuds/ThymeAtlas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here’s the thing: Dinesh and Gilfoyle have drunkenly kissed three times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dry Cereal

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't written fic in like a year but this ship has barely any content & that's gotta change

Dinesh realized one day that Gilfoyle was his best friend. It wasn’t exactly surprising, because they did spend all their time together. They were arguing over the correct pronunciation of gif when Dinesh realized it, and he just thought to himself, _that’s fair_ , because as much as Gilfoyle was an Absolute Asshole, he was actually good at his job, fun to play video games with, and fucking funny. He also pronounced gif with a soft g, which was unfortunate, but Dinesh could still take pride in knowing he was right.

“Oh hello,” said Jared, from the kitchen door. “Is this a gif argument I hear.” Soft g.

“It’s gif-” (hard g) “- Jared, come on,” said Gilfoyle.

Dinesh gaped at him, but recovered fast enough to say, “Yeah Jared, can you get less cool.”

Once Jared had left in a characteristically awkward I-know-you-guys-are-only-joking way, Dinesh turned to Gilfoyle.

“What the hell was that?”

“Chaotic neutral, bitches,” said Gilfoyle, even though Dinesh was the only other person in the room. “I like to keep you guessing.” He walked to the kitchen to get cereal.

Normally Dinesh would have followed him, but he still had the best friends thing in his head and wanted to think for a second.

 

Here’s the thing: Dinesh and Gilfoyle have drunkenly kissed three times.

 

The first time was before Pied Piper was more than a few lines of code, and Erlich was throwing a party celebrating the anniversary of selling Aviato. Everyone in the house thought it was incredibly stupid, but no one was going to turn down free alcohol, so they waited quietly as Erlich made a toast.

“It was on this day,” he was saying, “that the greatness of the incredible program Aviato was realized…”

Dinesh zoned out Erlich’s speech when Gilfoyle sat heavily next to him on the couch and handed him a beer. Dinesh took it skeptically.

“You didn’t like, spit in this or anything, right?”

“And ruin a perfectly good beer?”

They both looked at the label. It was a Bud Light.

“You think this is-”

“Never mind. The point is that it’s fine.”

Two hours later everyone was discussing how the term ‘rival’ usually had sexual connotations.

“It’s like this barista that always spelled my name wrong,” Erlich was saying. “I fucked her so she would say it right but she still said ‘Ernie’ in bed.”

“Yeah,” said Gilfoyle. “Everyone knows it’s Erlich.” He emphasized the ‘ch.’

“I can’t tell if you’re fucking with me.”

“I agree with Erlich, actually,” cut in Bighead. “I mean, Draco definitely wanted to fuck Harry.” Richard nodded from his spot next to them.

“Or you guys,” said Erlich, gesturing at Dinesh and Gilfoyle with his bong.

Dinesh had been trying to figure out how to do always blue more than five times in a row, but now he dropped the ball. “What?”

“Obvious sexual tension.”

“What?” said Dinesh again. Gilfoyle didn’t say anything, but he was also downing another beer so that seemed normal.

“Well,” said Richard. “To be fair…”

“Oh come on,” protested Dinesh. “Bighead is practically in your lap.”

“Yeah, but we’re not _rivals_ ,” said Bighead.

“Oh my god,” said Gilfoyle, putting down his beer. “Stop already.”

“Aren’t you a Satanist?” Dinesh said, or started to say, because at that point Gilfoyle leaned over and kissed him.

“Look,” he said, pulling away. “Nothing. No sparks flying or whatever other bullshit.”

 _I guess I got his spit in my mouth after all_ , Dinesh thought vaguely.

 

The second time was after Pied Piper got funded by Peter Gregory and everyone was high as shit. They didn’t even have a similar thread of conversation anymore, everyone was just laughing at their own completely separate jokes. They had moved from the table a while ago and now were mainly lying on the floor except for Erlich, who was sitting on a chair that he kept calling his throne.

Dinesh had Gilfoyle to his left and a cooler to his right, because at some point they had decided that going back and forth to the kitchen was just too much work. Richard was somewhere above his head and he didn’t seem jittery at all for once, was just tapping his fingers against the floor over and over. Dinesh had started humming along at some point because Gilfoyle nudged him and told him to shut up, but it was halfhearted at best.

“Pass me a beer,” said Gilfoyle, and nudged him some more.

“Fuck off,” said Dinesh, and stared at a spot on the ceiling for a bit.

Gilfoyle made a huffy, annoyed sound, and leaned over Dinesh to grab a beer, but halfway through the return trip he stopped and glanced down. They looked at each other for a still moment, which was weird in retrospect but seemed normal at the time to Dinesh’s drunk-slow brain. Richard was still tapping his fingers. Then they kissed.

Dinesh didn’t know who made the move first. They were both so inebriated that they wouldn’t remember later, only that it had happened. Dinesh thought that it would probably be better if Gilfoyle shaved. He also felt the world spinning, but that was probably just the booze. They broke apart when they heard Erlich cheering.

“What did I say?” he yelled, much louder than necessary. “Obvious. Sexual. Tension.”

Dinesh glared at him. Gilfoyle looked kind of smug. Erlich fell off his chair.

 

The third time was at TechCrunch, after the code gay incident. They were walking back to their hotel rooms and Dinesh had to stop for a second to lean against the wall. He meant to just rest to stop feeling dizzy, but he took the chance to sip from the drink he’d stolen from the bar.

“Dude,” Gilfoyle said. “I was joking. It’s fine if you’re gay.”

Dinesh put the glass down in a decorative plant, only missing by a little, and gave Gilfoyle a look.

“You know I’m bi, right?” Gilfoyle continued. “I’m not talking out of my ass.”

“Yeah I—what? Whatever. I don’t know, man. I’ve never even thought about guys because I’m always wondering why girls don’t like me.”

“Well that’s not pathetic at all.”

Dinesh buried his head in his hands. “I don’t need you reminding me how pathetic my life is.” He thought about popping a boner when he saw Gilfoyle’s code and winced.

Gilfoyle sighed. “Sorry. Seriously, though, it’s fine if you’re just figuring shit out now. Figuring shit out is hard, I get it.”

Dinesh’s head was spinning. Why was Gilfoyle being nice all of a sudden? He was going to do something stupid.

“I just have to try it out to know for sure,” he mumbled to the plant.

“What?” asked Gilfoyle, and then Dinesh was slamming their faces together. It was a horrible kiss because Dinesh was very drunk, and it took a couple tries to even find Gilfoyle’s mouth, but it lasted longer than the other two combined. Gilfoyle slowly brought his hands to Dinesh’s cheeks, Dinesh opened his mouth. They broke apart when the elevator dinged open next to them.

“Huh,” said Gilfoyle, wiping his mouth. “Surprisingly, that wasn’t the worst kiss I’ve ever had.”

 

The thing is, they never talked about any of it afterwards. Which is totally fair, because that would be uncomfortable for everyone and Dinesh certainly wasn't going to be the one to bring it up. The weird part was that Gilfoyle never teased him about it, not one snide remark or even just a knowing look with the right timing. But other than that, things were fine and normal. You know.

Dinesh had added “looking for guys” to his Tinder, because now that he thought about it wouldn’t that make his dating pool bigger and wouldn’t he maybe get laid for once, but he had about as much luck with that as he had with girls. Sometimes he looked over at Gilfoyle and even though he didn’t _really_ remember any of the kisses, he knew that they felt pretty nice. And then he would firmly look away because while he had pretty much accepted the “kinda gay” thing, there was no way in hell he would ever even consider Gilfoyle in that way. Like, come on. It was Gilfoyle.

Sure, they spent all their time together and genuinely enjoyed each other’s company, even the arguing (and if Dinesh admitted it to himself, especially the arguing), and knew and understood each other better than anyone else and had no plans on working separately from each other but come on.

“Come on,” Dinesh said out loud to himself, just to hammer the point home. “Come on. It’s Gilfoyle.”

“What’s Gilfoyle?” asked Jared suddenly, from behind him, like a fucking ghost.

“In the kitchen making cereal,” said Dinesh, maybe too loudly. They should really put a bell on Jared one day, he was way too tall to be able to sneak around like that. “I’m going to go join him goodbye.”

“Bye!” said Jared, seeming not to notice that Dinesh was acting at all weird.

As soon as he walked into the kitchen Dinesh realized his mistake. When you’re in the middle of an I-might-be-gay-for-this-fucking-asshole-I-work-with crisis the last thing you want to do is be alone in a room with them while they’re staring straight at you. Gilfoyle slid a bowl and the box of cereal over the counter to Dinesh. He didn’t have the milk out because he ate his cereal dry, like, as Dinesh put it, “a fucking heathen.”

Gilfoyle had tapped on his phone for a second, and then read out loud: “ _Heathen: An individual that does not acknowledge the God of the Bible_. I acknowledge the guy, I just think he’s an asshole.”

Dinesh had rolled his eyes and loudly slurped his milk.

“Fucking heathen,” Dinesh said now, and Gilfoyle snorted, obviously remembering the same conversation.

“Some of us don’t enjoy milk on our keyboards,” Gilfoyle replied haughtily.

“The point of eating cereal is to get away from the keyboards,” retorted Dinesh, and he thought, _You know what? I could do worse than this guy. He_ is _my best friend._

Gilfoyle stuck out his tongue before loudly crunching his cereal.

“Ugh,” said Dinesh. “Gross.” And leaned in and kissed him, which was also gross because he got a mouthful of dry cereal.

“Hm,” said Gilfoyle, as Dinesh pulled away. “I wondered when you’d do that sober.”

“Shut the fuck up,” said Dinesh. “I can’t believe you can eat that.”

“Dry cereal keeps its flavor,” said Gilfoyle, and tried to lean in, but Dinesh dodged him to take the bowl out of his hands and pour milk into it. Gilfoyle looked at it forlornly. “Just for that I’m dumping you.”

“Were we dating?” asked Dinesh, doing math in his head. He had known Gilfoyle for years, and they still weren’t sick of each other. None of his girlfriends had lasted more than 6 months. Unfortunately, this was the relationship most likely to work out for him in the long term.

“Yeah, for about three months,” Gilfoyle deadpanned.

Dinesh squinted at him. “I can’t tell if you’re fucking wi—”

“Mother fuck!” shouted Erlich, jumping out from who knows where. “You couldn’t have done this three minutes later?”

Dinesh blinked. Gilfoyle sighed.

“They said dating,” yelled Erlich to the rest of the house. “At 11:57 in the morning, god _dammit!_ ”

Richard shuffled over, almost guiltily. “Mm. In the kitchen.” He frowned, thinking, then called Jared over, whose eyes were filled with happy light.

“A morning proposal in the place where they eat together! Oh, how romantic, and just as I predicted.” He turned to them, smiling benevolently. “Congratulations!”

Erlich and Richard were begrudgingly taking money out of their wallets. Dinesh was very confused. Gilfoyle stepped forward.

“There was no proposal,” he said. “We are not dating. I was fucking with Dinesh. Goodbye.” He walked out of the room. Dinesh followed him, still very confused, but almost 100% sure that Gilfoyle was fucking with everyone else instead of him. Erlich and Richard were happily tucking the money back into their wallets. Jared looked as though he had been personally insulted.

Five minutes later, Dinesh got an email:

_Sure got them fooled. Chaotic neutral, bitches._

“Hah!” Carla yelled, standing up and slapping her hands on the table. “Fifty bucks on that whenever the word ‘dating’ was said, Gilfoyle would deny it only to later confirm by email. Pay up, assholes!” She turned to Gilfoyle. “Sorry for hacking your account.” She didn’t look sorry at all.

“Really,” said Erlich, handing over the money and looking very disappointed. “Email. How could you?”


End file.
